On Reading "On Fairy-Stories"

My long-awaited copy of J. R. R. Tolkien's collection of essays, The Monsters and the Critics, arrived today (I didn't realize my copy had come all the way from Merrie Olde England), but it was worth the wait. I ordered the book because it contains one essay I particularly wanted to read, "On Fairy-Stories," that provides a particularly illuminating glimpse into Tolkien's thought and a rousing defense of speculative and fantastic fiction, especially from a Christian perspective.

Originally delivered as a lecture at St. Andrews University in Scotland in 1939, "On Fairy-Stories" is a long and somewhat rambling essay that covers a lot of intellectual territory. Tolkien displays a near-encyclopedic grasp of ancient and medieval European literature to support his points. What I used to say about one of my own graduate school professors applies even more so to Tolkien: "He probably forgot more about medieval literature than I'll ever know."

Tolkien begins by trying to define fairy stories, freely admitting that he knows more about what fairy stories are not than about what they are. They are not mere juvenile stories about tiny beings with wings [e. g., Tinkerbell]; they are not merely stories about travels to exotic lands and faraway places on earth; and they are not simple falsehoods. What they are, Tolkien spends the rest of the essay elaborating. After briefly discussing the possible origins of fairy stories, Tolkien begins to warm to his topic when he describes how the mind works to create fairy stories in the first place:

 The human mind endowed with the powers of generalization and abstraction, sees not only green-grass, discriminating it from other things (and finding it fair to look upon), but sees that it is green as well as being grass. But how powerful, how stimulating to the very faculty that produced it, was the invention of the adjective: no spell or incantation in Faërie is more potent. . . .

 The mind that thought of light, heavy, grey, yellow, still, swift also conceived of magic that would make heavy things light and able to fly, turn grey lead into yellow gold, and the still rock into swift water. If it could do one, it could do the other; it inevitably did both. When we can take green from grass, blue from heaven, and red from blood, we have already an enchanter's power—upon one plane; and the desire to wield that power in the world external to our mind awakes. . . . But in such 'fantasy,' as it is called, new form is made; Faërie begins; Man becomes a sub-creator.

  Tolkien takes particular exception to the belief that fairy stories are fit only for children, as if children are somehow more simple-minded than adults, more eager to believe the fantastic, and more willing to suspend disbelief than adults are:

Is there any essential connection between children and fairy-stories? Is there any call for comment, if an adult reads them for himself? Reads them as tales, that is, not studies them as curios. Adults are allowed to collect and study anything, even old theater-programs or paper bags. . . . Fairy-stories in the modern lettered world have been relegated to the 'nursery,' as shabby or old-fashioned furniture is relegated to the playroom, primarily because the adults do not want it and do not mind if it is misused.

(As an aside, I would say that thanks in large part to the phenomenal popularity of Tolkien's own works, including The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and The Silmarillion, their many imitations and derivatives published since, and contemporary works of fantasy such as the Harry Potter books, "fairy stories" are more widely accepted among adults than ever before. Tolkien's next major point about the "willing suspension of disbelief" still holds):

Children are capable, of course, of literary belief, when the story-maker's art is good enough to produce it. That state of mind has been called 'willing suspension of disbelief.' But this does not seem to me a good description of what happens. What really happens is that the story-maker proves a successful 'sub-creator.' He makes a Secondary World which your mind can enter. Inside it, what he relates is 'true' : it accords with the laws of that world. You therefore believe it, while you are, as it were, inside. The moment disbelief arises, the spell is broken; the magic, or rather art, has failed.

Having considered what fairy stories are (or are not) and how they are constructed, Tolkien next considers the purpose and value of fairy stories. "Fairy stories were plainly not concerned with possibility, but with desirability. If they awakened desire, satisfying it while often whetting it unbearably, they succeeded," he writes. Based on memories of his own boyhood, Tolkien argues the most fundamental desire a successful fairy story can arouse is the desire to see those places, creatures, and things that are totally strange, totally Other, totally alien to one's everyday experience, even if that Other is somehow dangerous:

The dragon had the trade-mark Of Faërie written plain upon him. In whatever world he had his being, it was an Other-world. Fantasy, the making or glimpsing of Other-worlds, was the heart of the desire of Faërie. I desired dragons with a profound desire. Of course I in my timid body did not wish to have them in my neighborhood . . . But the world that contained even the imagination of Fáfnir [a dragon from Germanic mythology] was richer and more beautiful at whatever cost of peril.

The dark and perilous aspects of some fairy stories, far from being harmful to children, can actually be beneficial to them, Tolkien argues:

Children are meant to grow up and not to become Peter Pans. Not to lose innocence and wonder; but to proceed on the appointed journey: that journey upon which it is certainly not better to travel hopefully than to arrive, though we must travel hopefully if we are to arrive. But it is one of the lessons of fairy stories . . . that on callow, lumpish, and selfish youth peril, sorrow, and the shadow of death can bestow dignity, and even sometimes wisdom.

One of the greatest purposes of a fairy-story, Tolkien seems to imply here, is to impart a great truth about life in our "Primary World," even as it moves and delights us by relating the adventures of characters in a totally imaginary "Secondary World." Far from being a waste of the human being's creative or imaginative abilities, the making of a genuine fairy story is the highest achievement of narrative art:

Anyone inheriting the fantastic device of human language can say the green sun. . . . [but to] make a Secondary World inside which the green sun will be credible, commanding Secondary Belief, will probably require labor and thought, and will certainly demand a special skill, a kind of elvish craft. Few will attempt such difficult tasks. But when they are attempted and in any degree accomplished then we have a rare achievement of Art: indeed, narrative art, story-making in its primary and most potent mode.

 Indeed, Tolkien insists, the human ability to create Secondary Worlds in fiction and to create tales of the beings who populate those worlds is not just an idle amusement, but a fundamental defining characteristic of human beings, a right given to them by God, who is Himself a creator of worlds and beings:

Fantasy remains a human right: we make in our measure and in our derivative mode, because we are made: and not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a Maker.

The ability to create secondary fictional worlds in which strange and fantastical things happen should give us the ability to look at our Primary World with fresh and appreciative eyes:

We should look at green again and be startled anew (but not blinded) by blue and yellow and red. We should meet the centaur and the dragon, and then suddenly behold, like the ancient shepherds, sheep, and dogs, and horses—and wolves. This recovery, fairy-stories help us to make. In that sense only a taste for them may make us, or keep us, childish.

Tolkien concludes his essay by discussing what he believes to be the most important characteristic of fairy-stories: what is sometimes called the happy ending, but more than that, the dramatic unexpected turn of events that heals and restores the characters and brings about real profound joy that was also totally unexpected. Tolkien calls this moment the complete opposite of tragedy or catastrophe and coins the term eucatastrophe to describe it:

In its fairy-tale—or otherworld—setting, it is a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of dyscatatrophe , of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will), universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.

 Evangelium, of course, is the Latin word for the gospel, the "good news" of the Birth, Death, and Resurrection of Christ. By the Birth, Death, and Resurrection of Christ, "God redeemed the corrupt making-creatures, men, in a way fitting to this [story-making] aspect, as to others, of their strange nature." Tolkien suggests here that just as human nature may be redeemed by the death and resurrection of Christ, human fairy-stories and the human ability to make them, may be redeemed as well. The gospel, Tolkien suggests, is the ultimate fairy-story—not in the sense that it is false or imaginary—but in the sense that it contains marvels worthy of the best fairy stories and the greatest eucatastrophe imaginable. The Death and Resurrection of Christ, which looked at first like the greatest defeat in all of history achieved the salvation of the world. The most mind-boggling reality about the gospel, however, is that it is true:

But this story has entered History  and the primary world; the desire and aspiration of sub-creation has been raised to the fulfillment of Creation. The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man's history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation.

Does this mean, then, that once the greatest fairy-story has been told, there are no other fairy stories to tell? No, says Tolkien. On the contrary, if human nature has been redeemed by the Death and Resurrection of Christ, human fairy-stories and the human ability to make them may be redeemed as well. A well-made fairy story, with its evangelium and eucatastrophe, a message of incredible good news about a totally unexpected turn of events that brings incredible, unexpected joy, may awaken readers' imagination to the greatest and truest evangelium and eucatastrophe of all: the Death and Resurrection of Christ:

. . . in God's kingdom, the presence of the greatest does not depress the small. Redeemed Man is still man. Story, fantasy, still go on and should go on. The Evangelium has not abrogated legends; it has hallowed them, especially the 'happy ending.' The Christian has still to work, with mind as well as body, to suffer, hope, and die; but he may now perceive that all his bents and faculties have a purpose, which can be redeemed. So great is the bounty with which he has been treated that he may now, perhaps, fairly dare to guess that in Fantasy he may now assist in the effoliation and multiple enrichment of creation. All tales may yet come true; and yet, at the last, redeemed, they may be as like and as unlike the forms that we give them as Man, fully redeemed, will be like and unlike the fallen that we know.

Readin' and 'Ritin' (But No 'Rithmetic)

Hello There! Yes, I know there's been some serious blog fade around here lately, but I am still alive and kicking, Thanks Be To God! I believe I'm finally over the consarned, goshdarned, !@#$%^&* medical problems that (sometimes literally) cramped my style for much of the summer. Now that I'm feeling more or less normal (whatever that is), I'm beginning to think again about serious questions, such as what I can do to support myself. I'm receiving disability payments and have some savings, but I'd like to be generating income as well as spending it.

Before I got sick, I was thinking about doing some fiction writing, resuming work on a project I had laid aside awhile back. I am slowly getting back into that. I'm a great one for thinking about writing, but not so hot on actually doing it. I have a pretty fierce inner critic who tells me that writing fiction is a waste of time and a way of avoiding reality (I think he's related to my Scottish Calvinist ancestors). However, when I can get him to shut up, I read and listen to other people's fiction. I've listened to two podcast versions of Treasure Island in honor of Talk Like a Pirate Day, and am currently reading Michael Flynn's excellent medieval Catholic science fiction novel Eifelheim and Phil and Kaja Foglio's "gaslamp fantasy comic" Girl Genius.

As if that weren't enough, I'm also listening to a  series of podcasts on the works of J. R. R. Tolkien. In his introductory episode, the host of these podcasts, a professor of medieval literature, cites an essay of Tolkien's, "On Fairy Stories," that I just can't wait to read for myself. In it Tolkien argues that the urge to create imaginary worlds in fiction is a natural human desire since humans are made in the image and likeness of a God who is Himself a creator of worlds. Furthermore, the desire to create magical or fantastic worlds in which extraordinary things happen is not an escape from reality or a denial of reality but a reminder to humans that our world contains spiritual realities that go beyond what we can see or prove in ordinary day to day sense experience.

A Christian justification for writing speculative or fantastic fiction could be hugely liberating and could open up a whole new world of creativity for me. I have to ask myself, "Why shouldn't I try to create my own fictional worlds, worlds that could be every bit as exciting as the worlds I am currently visiting as a reader? Why shouldn't I find out if readers will enjoy visiting these worlds as much as I enjoyed creating them?

I am not suggesting that I will drop everything and try to become the next J. R. R. Tolkien, or the next J. K. Rowling, or even the next Stan Lee. I know that trying to make a living writing fiction is a long shot even under the best of circumstances. Most manuscripts are never published, most published books are never reviewed, and most reviewed books never sell millions of copies. Every author I've ever read who has written about the craft of writing, however, explains that real authors never write solely for the money. They write because there are stories that authors would like to tell, want to tell, and need to tell.

What I am suggesting is that I am going to see what stories I can tell, and see who else might like to read them. I'll probably never make a dime, but I might possibly make a few bucks and might even make millions, although I consider this last possibility highly unlikely. I just hope the journey will be fun. When I think about the situation in this light, the question becomes not so much, "What am I going to do to support myself?" as, "What can I do to keep the lights on and groceries in the fridge while I write?" The second is a far more interesting question than the first.

Huh?

Have I wandered into some strange alternate universe? Bizarre, unexplained things are happening.

First, the Carolina Panthers have finally won their first game of the season after a string of three rather embarrassing losses. A victory. How refreshing!

 Carolina Panthers defenders wrap up a Washington Redskins running back as part of Sunday's 20-17 win.

Second, as the Fox Sports guys were signing off after the game,they advised the viewing audience to stay tuned and see the poker playing priest on the Pokerstars.net Million Dollar Challenge. The words "poker," "playing," and "priest" are not normally used in the same sentence, so that raised my eyebrows and provoked my curiosity. In the next few minutes, however, I got an extra large helping of raised eyebrows with a side order of "WHAAAAAT?" when I learned that the priest in question is the pastor of a parish I used to belong to in my home diocese! It's one thing when a priest is doing weird things somewhere else, but when it's a priest in your own backyard, it's especially surreal. What's more, Father Andrew Trapp, with the help of a professional poker player, defeated two other professional poker players and then defeated the same player who had coached him in a round of Texas Hold 'em, thereby winning $100,000. One hundred grand! He'll probably have to render at least a third of that unto Caesar, but that's still a nice chunk of change. He said he learned to play poker while in seminary. Where did this guy go to school? Our Lady of La Roulette?

 Father Andrew Trapp, the "poker playing priest."

To be fair, the good padre said he will donate all his winnings to the church building fund and will auction off his other prize, a trip to somewhere in the Caribbean (The Bahamas, I think), in hopes of raising more funds.

Third, the gang at Blogger, WITHOUT TELLING ME, re-jiggered the template for new posts, leading me to believe for several days that I couldn't post pictures to my blog. Fortunately, I found out about the changes and a correction to the problem via the Blogger Help forums (Thanks, guys).

Wait, I can't be in an alternate universe. No previously good, clean shaven person of my acquaintance has suddenly sprouted a beard and become evil. (Whew, that's a relief).

Love and Marriage, Pirate Style

Ahoy there, Mateys! That fair wench The Ironic Catholic hath reminded me that today be Talk Like a Pirate Day once again, it be. Shiver me timbers, I almost missed it! Here be the link to the last time I blogged about TLAPD. But what's more, it seems The Ironic Catholic (Dr. IC for short, don't ye know), has as a story to tell about Lizzie the Pirate Wench, Jack her intended, and their parish priest, no less! Lend an ear, ye scurvy dogs, and ye'll learn somethin' about that there Theology of the Body, so ye will, and have a laugh besides.

In the meantime, here be a video of a song that some scurvy dog hath composed in honor of the occasion:



Arrr!

The Happy Haka

Reader PaperSmyth and I have been chatting via the comment boxes lately about rituals, symbolism, and team loyalty. When I mentioned that wearing an Auburn University cap brings back all sorts of memories of my Dad, and wearing a University of South Carolina cap brings back both memories of my Mom and memories of my own time at USC, Papersmyth responded that she has used the earthshaking, earsplitting experience of The Tunnel Walk at University of Nebraska home games as a metaphor for what The Last Trumpet in the book of Revelation might be like:



This is obviously a pregame ritual designed to psych up the home team and home fans and intimidate the visitors, right?

Then, as it happened, I listened to the most recent episode of Father Roderick's Daily Breakfast Podcast. Father Roderick has been visiting Australia and New Zealand speaking to members of the Australasian Catholic Press Association. His host in New Zealand mentioned a local rugby team, The All-Blacks (so named because of their uniforms), that performs a haka, or a kind of war dance used by New Zealand's Maori people, before every game. The haka uses chanting, shouting, aggressive body movements, and fierce facial expressions to convey the message to opponents: "We are bad dudes, and we will mess you up."

In other words, it's a pregame ritual designed to psych up the home team and home fans and intimidate the visitors:



And it's quite effective! So, PaperSmyth, I'll see your Tunnel Walk and raise you one haka. Maybe if the Gamecocks did that before every game . . .

I Won Again!

Yes, Dear Readers, it has happened again.

More than a year after my first victory in the HeroMachine Caption Contest, I have won again!

Jeff Hebert, creator of the fantabulous HeroMachine software, website, and blog has recently revived his much beloved caption contest. Every couple of weeks, Jeff searches through his vast library of comics, finds a single panel rich with comedic possibilities, removes the dialogue, and invites readers to submit their own. The reader with the funniest dialogue (in this case, that would be me) wins a prize drawn by Jeff. Since he is currently hard at work on the next major upgrade of the software, the prize will be an item of my choice to be included in the next version of HeroMachine or (shudder) a caricature of my face, an item too horrible to be contemplated.

Here is this week's panel with the original dialogue removed:



Here's the same panel with my dialogue inserted, which I hope, Dear Readers, you will find appropriately hilarious:



I have an idea of what I would like for my prize, but I haven't made a final decision. I'll keep you posted.

Caps

It's funny how the physical objects around us can get us to thinking.

Now that another college football season is upon us, I splurged on a University of South Carolina baseball cap to show my team loyalty. This is the one I chose:



I've cheered for Carolina teams since I was a boy, long before I did my graduate work there (and far too often been poorly rewarded for my loyalty, but that's another story). Hope springs eternal in the Gamecock fan's breast however. This might just be the year the football team or the basketball team or the baseball team or the women's track and field team or somebody does great things.

When the cap arrived yesterday I wore it with great pride, but it reminded me that I had a similar one for Auburn University, my Dad's alma mater, a cap very much like this one:



Towards the end of his life, I noticed that Dad had taken to wearing a baseball cap whenever he drove to keep the sun out of his eyes. He was wearing a generic baseball cap he'd gotten from somewhere (the USC bookstore if I remember correctly). Two Christmases before he died of cancer, I gave him an Auburn cap. He smiled and thanked me. Later I learned that he wore it whenever he drove until he was no longer able to drive. After Dad's funeral, my brother Allen asked me if I would like to have the cap and I have kept it ever since.

Dad was never a big sports fan. Normally he paid very little attention to Auburn athletics—until perhaps the annual weekend that Auburn played Alabama. When I rediscovered the cap, however, I couldn't stop thinking about him. I found Auburn's fight song on the internet and have been listening to it almost compulsively. I'll keep an eye on how the Auburn Tigers (Clemson Tigers = BAD! Auburn Tigers = GOOD!) do this year, even as I'm cheering on my Gamecocks. And should Auburn triumph over Alabama, you will hear a rousing cry of WAAAAAAR EAGLE!" from this direction.

Miss you, Dad.

What The . . .?

Regular readers of this blog (all three of you) know that two of my interests are the Catholic faith and comics. These two things came together in a rather bizarre way when I looked in on Jeff Hebert's Heromachine Blog on Friday and found the following item:



As I commented on Jeff's blog:

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? Bats in the altogether except for his cape and cowl? With his batboys discreetly covered by the undulations of Joker, aka the Serpent in the Garden of Eden? This is not just whacked out comics, folks. This is some SERIOUSLY whacked out theology.

(Darned Episcopalians!) :)

The meaning of this one confounds both Christians and comic book fans. Never let it be said that It's All Straw does not broaden your educational, cultural, and theological horizons, dear readers.

'Sup?

Hey, everybody. I know it's been awhile since I posted anything of significance. Still having some medical problems that interfere with my ability to do much of anything useful, but I'm still here. So . . . 'Sup with you?

Just for Laughs

OK, enough with the cute pictures of dogs and cats with hilarious captions and the grousing about my medical problems. It's time for this blog to regain the moral and intellectual high ground with . . . superhero parody videos! Yeah, that's it! That's the ticket! I blundered across this yesterday on YouTube and thought it was hilarious.



To be perfectly honest, I always did think Wonder Woman was a little bit on the lame side. Glad somebody else thinks so too.

Two Blogs Go Black

Two giants of the Catholic blogosphere, Amy Welborn and Dawn Eden, have decided to bring their blogs to an end. I'll let them explain why. I'm sure they had good reasons, but I will miss both of them.

Third-rate hacks like me are still available, however. :)

Dawn announced she was going on a permanent blogging vacation almost a month ago, but I kept checking back every so often in the forlorn hope that perhaps she had reconsidered her decision. No such luck.

As for Amy, I hadn't checked on her blog in a while, and was surprised to find during a quick visit to her site that she had decided to call it quits.

We'll miss you, ladies. Be well, and God bless you both. Thank you for all you have done to make the internet a saner, more humane, more Christlike place.

Pax vobiscum.

Cheezeburger of Teh Day

see more dog and puppy pictures

Cheezeburger of Teh Day

see more dog and puppy pictures

Sign Her Up for the Schola Cantorum!

Tangle (formerly called GodTube, I think) sent me this video, and I thought it was too cute not to share. Yes, she is singing the version of The Lord's Prayer found in the King James Bible, which means she's probably not Catholic, but hey, she's only two! Things could change.



Makes you think, doesn't it? Have you said your prayers today? Even more importantly, have you made sure your kids have said their prayers today?

Cheeseburgers in Paradise

A member of my Legion of Mary group very graciously presented me with a George Foreman Grill recently (on my birthday no less) and last night and today I finally had a chance to try it out. I don't know about you, but when I hear the word "grill," I start thinking, "hamburgers," and the instruction book just happened to include a recipe for "George Foreman Power Burgers" (with your choice of vegetables and seasoned bread crumbs added to the meat) that I just had to try. I bought just over a pound of ground chuck and a white onion and made the bread crumbs myself. I followed the cooking directions and last night produced two rather tasty burgers with all the fixin's (cheese, lettuce, ketchup, mustard, pickles), a very satisfying, if somewhat messy meal. I just had another plain burger for lunch, and cooked and froze the remaining meat in a rather oversized patty that I'll reheat later, either in the microwave or the toaster oven.

My only complaint about the whole process is that the plastic spatula provided and recommended for use with the grill is pretty darn useless. Using it is like trying to flip your burger with a credit card. Otherwise, I'm looking forward to grilling all sorts of goodies. Now, I have the option of being able to prepare a slow-cooked meal in my new crock pot, or to cook something fairly quickly on the grill. Recipes and tips will be gratefully accepted.

Mass Appeal

I went to Mass today for the first time in several weeks after a long illness. I'm still not fully recovered, but I consider the fact that I felt well enough to go to church an encouraging sign. More news as it becomes available and events warrant. That is all.

Still Struggling

Man, this is getting tedious. Sorry about the blog fade for the past couple of weeks, but I'm still having medical problems that are embarrassing, messy, and painful in a certain (ahem) sensitive region of the male anatomy. This all started with a pair of infections, back to back, and even after two rounds of antibiotics, I still don't feel particularly good. In fact it feels as though the infection is trying to make a comeback. I'm planning to see my doctor on Monday, and we'll discuss where to go from here.

On the bright side, I did get to visit my family in North Carolina for birthday number (mumble, mumble) and I treated myself to the DVD of The Incredibles with a the Wal-Mart Gift Card my sister gave me. The Incredibles is rapidly becoming one of my favorite movies. Writer and director Brad Bird combines a smart script and stellar computer-generated animation to serve up a spankin' comedy action/adventure/superhero movie, even as he gently pokes fun at the action/adventure/superhero movie—and, as if that weren't enough, his turn as the voice of Edna Mode, costume designer to the supers, is almost worth the price of admission by itself:



I think the secret to the Pixar gang's success is that for all their mind-blowing technical skill with computer animation, they never forget that the real essentials of any story are character and plot.They rarely fail to give us interesting characters and to make the journey on which those characters embark interesting as well. Unfortunately I missed the latest Pixar vehicle, Up, during its theatrical run, but in light of all the enthusiastic reviews I read, it's definitely slated for rental the minute it comes out on DVD.

A Response From the President

You may recall that back in April I posted an open letter to the President voicing my opposition to the so-called Feedom of Choice Act (FOCA). Yesterday I received this response:

The White House
Washington

July 2, 2009

Dear Friend:

Thank you for taking the time to share your views on abortion. This is a heart-wrenching issue, and I appreciate your input and thoughts.

I am committed to making my Administration the most open and transparent in history, and part of delivering on that promise is hearing from people like you. I take seriously your opinions and respect your point of view on this issue. Please know that your concerns will be on my mind in the days ahead.

Thank you again for writing. I encourage you to visit Whitehouse.gov to learn more about my Administration or to contact me in the future.

Sincerely,
Barack Obama

I offer this with very little comment, except to say that it's obviously a form letter, which I expected, if I expected any response at all. There's no indication that anyone associated with the President attempted to respond to any of the objections or concerns I raised. The letter moves quickly from a generic, bland thank-you for "sharing my views on abortion" to a discussion of what seems to be the President's favorite topic—himself and the wonders of his Administration (note the capital A). The envelope was addressed by hand, probably by a lowly White House mail room employee.

"Change we can believe in?" I think not. To me it just looks like more of the same old thing--blarney and double-talk from another politician.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

I'm still struggling with medical issues. My sister came for a visit this weekend and brought some much needed TLC, some yummy home cooked meals, and her very sweet dog for company, but the weekend was still pretty rough. I found out I do have an infection and have started on another round of antibiotics. I'm also going to see my doctor later this afternoon. Your prayers, dear readers, would still be very much appreciated.

Medical Update

Thanks to all of those who have been and are praying for me. Please keep it up. Your prayers and good wishes are very much appreciated. The outpatient procedure went very well. There is no evidence of any Really Terrible Disease or Really Big Medical Problem, which is what I was really scared of, so that is a huge relief. I think I may have finally turned the corner on this thing and may soon be back to my old self.

I have to give an extraordinarily big shout-out and thank you to the incomparable Dawn Eden for her support during this time. I e-mailed her to ask for her prayers, and she went one better, not only praying for me, but also calling me and offering personal words of counsel and encouragement the night before the procedure. She sent me a link to a pamphlet by the great Fulton J. Sheen, an extraordinarily rich meditation on the relationship between Christ's sacrifice on Calvary and the events of every Mass. This booklet is well worth your time and will doubtless require several readings to fully appreciate. Thanks for everything, Dawn! You're a real mensch!